Twilight Nightmare
by Dreaming Dormouse
Summary: Hi! It's me again. I've started a new story, and I hope that no one minds that I'm going to use  Jack and Sally's children in it. Additional information is inside. Rated T for some swearing and possible blood violence.
1. Prologue

_Hi everyone!_

_I just want you all to know that I have quit writing my previous fan fiction, __Elemental Nightmare, for good. For those who liked it, I'm really sorry. It's just that ever since I've suffered a breakup, I no longer feel emotionally connected to it anymore. Needless to say, I'm writing a new story. You may recognize some characters from my previous fanfic, though the plot line is slightly different._

_Again, I'm really sorry._

In a large dark room, seemingly underground due to lack of windows, all was silent. All was desolate. There was no light, no sound, no sign of anything moving…

…Nothing. Suddenly, two small embers spontaneously appeared out of nowhere, burning brightly and illuminating the room. However, rather than livening the place up, it actually gave it a more macabre appearance. Clearly, this room was some type of torture chamber.

Shackles, pronged chairs, a shelf consisting of vile-looking liquids, and other terrifying medieval instruments of pain and torment scattered the room. A lanky figure suddenly walked through the door, striding swiftly over to a table. An abnormally large book lay open upon it, though the title seemed to be written in strange rune-like script. The man's long trench coat flew behind him, and his hair beneath a dark top hat was as red as blood. A long clawed index finger hovered over a page in that book.

Suddenly, the door once again opened, and another figure entered the room. This figure, also male, had a more muscular build than the previous man. His huge, bulky arms heaved in what appeared to be a dark sack, the contents seemingly moving. His messy brown hair fell into his face, and huge leathery wings tucked into slits in a black leather jacket. Bare clawed feet scratched at the stone floor, and the skinnier man whipped around.

"Well?" he demanded

"Got 'im. The ol' wolf didn't see what's coming. But, why do we need so many of the other residents? I thought we just-Ow!"

The other man had apparently been carrying a large white cane, his long fingers were wrapped around a skull-like ornament at the top, hitting the shorter figure over the head with it.

"Shut up, you imbecile! Anyone could be listening!" The red-head paused, looking around, suddenly freezing with his head turned in one specific direction.

"Spindle? Spindle! What is it?"

Spindle didn't respond.


	2. Rose

Rosalyn woke up screaming, however not as loudly as she expected. She smothered her face into her pillow, hoping she wouldn't wake up her sister.

_Just a dream... just a dream._

But it was that same dream. That same dream she had almost a year ago had been reoccurring in her sleep for the last three nights. It was always in that place, that hideous torture chamber. And right before she'd wake up, she almost feared that she wouldn't. The dreams would never be exactly the same, though Spindle would always look around…

And stare right at her. Somehow, deep in her mind, she knew he saw her. His white mask with that scribbled, sharp-toothed grin would somehow haunt her dreams. And his eyes- crimson and glowing through the slits of the mask, were always thriving with malice and hate. Somehow, he terrified her.

_Why's he always in my dreams?_

She turned over in her bed, still panting. Jessica hadn't burst into her room to yell at her for screaming, so she safely assumed she was still asleep. Her digital clock blinked five AM, but decided to get up anyways. Hell, it was early, but anything to avoid going to sleep to _that_ again.

She looked in her mirror-pale, blond, and skinny as always. She simply threw a basic black shirt and pair of jeans on, then slid a navy headband through her waist-length hair. With that, she had down to breakfast. Thank God it was Saturday.

Normally, being late October, Rose would've been happy near Halloween. However, this year wasn't going to be as fun. Two weeks ago, on her thirteenth birthday, she discovered something…

That she was a freak.

Maybe a medium, psychic, who knows. First it was freezing things by touching them, then half of her body turning invisible, then falling and levitating inches above the ground. She knew deep in her gut that these dreams had something to do with it as well.

Sitting down, she poured a box of rice krispies into a bowl, staring at a blank piece of paper and pen. She simply stared at it, almost zombie-like. Twiddiling with the pen, she self consciously grabbed it, laying its tip on the paper, and scribbled.

And scribbled…

And scribbled…

And scribbled…

…

"Rose? Rose!" A fist suddenly slammed down on the table in front of her, causing her to drop the pen. She looked up to see Jessica, hunching over her and looking horrified. She had the same bleach-blond hair as she did, though she was different due to her height, over-lathering of make-up, and spray tan.

"What?"

"What is that?"

"What?"

Jessica rolled her eyes. "Don't play stupid with me, Rose. What is_that?!_"

Now that she mentioned it, Rose never took a single glimpse at what she was doing. Scrawled on the piece of paper was a circle. However, not just any circle, but the same demon circle she'd seen in her dream in that room-the one with the upside-down star and those freaky symbols.

She couldn't help but take a glance at the clock- six-thirty. Had she really been in the kitchen for an hour and a half?

"Rose! Do you realize what that is?"

"Ummm….I dunno." She tried answering honestly.

"Look, there are weird Goths who think that they're vampires and spend their time vandalizing tombstones and churches and crap. They use symbols like _these_! Do you want to end up like them?" Jess snapped spastically, looking as if she just had a cardiac arrest.

"No…"

"Well, then stop drawing this!" That was Jess in the morning- spastic and potty-mouthed. Still, even if it was used by jerks like grave vandals, it didn't seem to be something to be upset about.

"But-"

"Whatever, Rose. I don't have time. I need to get to my shift at work and I'll talk to you when I get home, okay? I'm sorry. I love you. Please just stop drawing stuff like that. It's really sketchy and you could get in a lot of trouble for it" With that, Jess kissed her on the forehead and left out the door. Her parents died six months ago, so Jessica, now twenty, took care of her. She worked at a nearby diner.

"Bye." Rose simply put her dish away and head upstairs to her room.

Opening the door, she slumped down on her desk. Too bad she didn't have any homework. Now it was another slow and agonizing day alone.

Still…sometimes it was a good thing. Ever since she had these…abilities, she'd try to practice them whenever she could. Jesse remained blissfully unaware of this. She'd never understand.

_Might as well._

She then closed all of the blinds in her room.


	3. A Minor Risk

Double checking that her door to make sure it was locked, along with making sure Jesse finally left, she flopped on her bed, sighing with relief. She had to enjoy her time alone while she could.

It had been weeks since she'd practiced, and she'd probably be rusty, too. Still, it was worth a try. Of course, there was one little problem-

She didn't know how exactly she managed to use it.

Sometimes when she'd practice, nothing would happen. Otherwise, she'd manage to levitate something an inch or two from the ground for a few seconds. Other than that, she somehow hadn't been able to do so since she first discovered her powers. No more invisibility or freezing things with physical contact.

Her bright blue eyes scanned the room, looking for something. Anything she could try. Then she noticed that hideous pink poodle Webkin doll her aunt had given her. To think that four-year-olds were so addicted to that stuff . Not to say it was bad or anything

_It'll do._ She placed it in the center of the room, clearing away everything. Then she got up, sat in her chair, and leaned forward, placing her face in her hands.

_Move._

Nothing happened.

_**Move!**_

Still nothing.

"Move!" She whispered. Eventually, she stared at it for what seemed like hours, but the doll didn't budge an inch. Not even twitch. She subconsciously started shouting, trying to move it else somehow. Her brow furrowed, trying to remember how she did it the last time. Frustratingly, she couldn't. No matter how hard she tried, it was as if something was blocking her from accessing her recollection.

"Screw this!" Frustrated, she kicked the doll to the wall and stormed out of the room. Why was she getting so…wrapped up in this crap anyways?

Maybe she'd go for a walk. Then her head would clear. She had to get out of the house.

…

Her grey hoodie blew back in the wind as it was zipped open, and she walked along the sidewalk, leaves blowing everywhere. Simplistic black felt-covered boots splashed through a puddle. Eventually, after half an hour, she realized she hadn't the slightest idea where she was going. She suddenly noticed her surroundings, and realized that she was really close to an old abandoned barn she liked to visit. She didn't know why exactly, but she liked dark secluded places. Jesse didn't mind. Sometimes she'd stop by to see if Rose stopped by there. She didn't get out of her shift for another half hour.

The moment she walked in, she collapsed onto a haystack, savoring every second. Then she opened her eyes at some irritating light pouring in her face.

Wait…a light?

She noticed the source was from a large hole in the roof, and a stray dew drop splashed her face. She'd never noticed that before. A hole was in the ceiling, most likely the size of a full-grown man. Curious, she climbed a rickety ladder up to the top beams, and then for some subconscious reason crawled through it…

She gasped. She'd never noticed a way onto the roof before. She fully emerged from the hole, sitting upon the roof. The view of the small long-wilted corn field was amazing. However, she grimaced at the long sidewalk…the path back to civilization. As she sat down, cross-legged, she remembered the time when she fell off the playground bars at her school…when she somehow hovered above the ground by a millimeter.

No one noticed then…no one noticed now. Maybe she could try it again. No one was around. She strolled over to the edge, staring at the ground. Normally, one would get scared at such heights, but not even this perspective frightened her. What the hell? It was only…fifteen, twenty feet. Besides, she probably wouldn't die. And if anyone found her, she'd claim it was an accident.

She stood on the edge, leaning over and allowing gravity to pull her…


	4. Hot Water

_**"Rose!"**_

Rosalyn felt a sudden violent yank on her wrist, pulling her back onto the roof, causing her to fall on her back. Her stomach tightened into an uncomfortable knot when she saw the disgusted face of Jessica.

"Young lady, get in the car _right now!_" Before she could respond, Rose was dragged by her wrist back down a ladder by Jesse.

_Darn. Now I'll never be able to try again. Why is her shift over with so early anyways?_

Within moments, she was practically forced into the front seat, and the door slammed behind her. Jesse sat down next to her, panting. Oh crap, here it came…

"What the _hell_ were you thinking?"

"It was an accident. I was standing and I started to fa-"

"Don't you dare lie to me, Rose! I didn't see you fall, I watched you start to jump! Don't you realize you could've been killed?! Why would you do that?!"

"I don't know…"

"You don't know?" Jesse paused to sigh exasperatingly, as if this conversation was a complete waste of her time. "Look, that's not why I came. I had to leave work half an hour early because your algebra teacher called. She said you're _failing!_ And to make matter worse, do you know what she found in your notebook?"

Rose didn't answer. Crap- she completely forgot about the notebook check on Friday.

"Drawings! Almost every page was covered in sketches of ghosts and skeletons and all this other freaky crap. And I understand that your homework isn't done correctly and even _that's_ covered in doodles. Then it was the demon circle thing this morning and…and now this?! What were you trying to do, kill yourself? Are you becoming a goth?"

"No."

"Then what the hell is wrong with you?!" The pitch in Jesse's tone was very close to the screaming level.

Rose once again didn't answer.

"Talk to me, Rose! Do you realize what this could mean? Do you realize that you're wasting your life over this? Have you even considered doing something with your life?"

_Ulgh. Not the you're-gonna-be-a-failure-in-life-lecture again._

"Look, I know life's been crap ever since Mom and Dad died, but think for once! I cared for you- Damn it, I dropped out of school to do it! I'm giving my life up for you so you can get a good education while I'm working at a diner! I can't even apply to any colleges for another year! And now- now you're trying to become a suicidal?! Maybe for once in your life think about someone other than yourself, Rose! The world doesn't revolve around you! You're not the only one who's suffering! Think about how it'd affect me or your friends-!"

"I don't have any friends."

"Then think about your family! Think how you'd affect me or what Mom and Dad would've wanted!"

Jesse looked like she was about to cry.

_No! Don't bring Mom and Dad into this!_

"You're so thick-headed and ignorant, Rose! I don't know why I'm wasting my time with you! I'm not getting through to you, am I?! You're the reason everyone gets upset all the time! You're the reason that our lives are screwed up and I get so frustrated all the time!" With that, Jesse started breathing heavily, and the trip home was long, silent, and agonizing.

When they got home, Rose ran into her room and slammed the door behind her, clasping her hands to her head and sobbing silently. She had been biting her lip for the whole ride home to stop her from crying. And now it was pouring out-silent yet hard.

Sure, Jesse was a spazz, and she often got lectured, but this time it actually was Rose's fault. She'd never gotten…_this_ upset before.

"_You're the reason that our lives are screwed up and I get so frustrated all the time!"_

For some odd reason, those last words seemed to echo in her head. Jesse was right. Yet she wondered…was she? Was it really her fault? That everything was difficult and that everything was falling apart? And that's what made her realize…

Jesse was right. She'd probably affect the lives of everyone who knew or liked her, but the impact would be better than now, far better than if she was still around. If anyone knew what she was…

She wasn't anything cool or special. She was a freak. It finally hit her. She couldn't bear to make everyone's lives more difficult than they were. Everything would be best if she left. She grabbed her backpack and emptied it, kicking the academic-related contents off in a corner. She had to escape. She had to get out of this place. For good.


	5. Goodbye

It was almost midnight, the dawning of the thirtieth of October. Rose simply sat there at the table, staring. Finally, after five, hour-like minutes, she actually moved. She'd been planning this all day, and she dreaded having to do it. But still, she had no choice. If she even tried explaining all of this to Jesse…they'd both get thrown into the crazy house, and no one would ever forgive her. She couldn't bear sleeping in fear of seeing the dream again…seeing Spindle's face.

After shoving her phone, a few family pictures, trail mix, at least three hundred dollars, bottled water, and a sketchbook. She couldn't live without drawing. Then she picked up a pen…and started to write-

_Jesse-_

_I'm sorry. Sorry about all the pain I caused you. You're right. I'm throwing away what Mom and Dad wanted for me- a decent education. But that's only because it's something I can never achieve._

_Things have been happening-bad things. If I ever told you what, you'd think that I'm some sort of freak, and you'd never even want to look at my face again. You probably wouldn't believe me._

_Even though I can't explain what I was doing on the barn today, I can only tell you that I wasn't trying to kill myself._

She paused, wiping her eyes so that her tears wouldn't smudge the paper so much.

_I'm sorry, but it's because of this stuff that's been happening to me that I'm failing in school. It's the reason I can't even have any friends. I'm really sorry, but…_

_I'm leaving. I'm leaving, and I can't ever come back. Ever._

_Please don't take this personally. I don't want you to work your ass off flipping hamburgers all day long for the rest of your life. I know you'll be upset, but I want you to continue with your life and go to college. Just because I'm a freak of nature doesn't mean you can't live your life. _

_I'm sorry, and I want you to know that I love you. And no, I'm not trying to kill myself. I'm not sure where I'll go. Good bye. _

_-Rosalyn._

She held the pen to the paper, her wrist shaking violently. She couldn't even believe what she was writing, yet it had to be written. She practically forced the pen down.

Tiptoeing quietly, she head upstairs, opening the door and staring at her sister. She was snoring on her pillow. She stood there, at least for five minutes. For this was the last time she would ever be able to look at Jessica ever again. Finally, she strode over to her bed, not that she could hear her coming. Jesse was a deep sleeper. She bent over, kissing her and whispering in her ear.

"Goodbye Jesse. I love you." With that, she stormed out of the room, running downstairs to get her backpack. She had taken a long enough look at the house. When she snuck out the back door, she was shaking violently. She wanted to cry, and at the same time, didn't. She turned her head in the direction of the forest in the back of her neighborhood, suddenly sprinting into a run for some unknown reason.

…

It had already been ten minutes straight of running. She looked at the pines surrounding her. Over thirteen years living in this house…nothing was familiar. That was because she never ventured here before. At least, not this far.

The rain started to pour harder and harder, until it was unbearable. There was a small space between a couple of boulders beneath a huge pine, and she crept under it. There, she curled up into a ball beneath the canopy of a pine branch. The tears she held inside of her suddenly exploded out of her on their own. It was gone. Her previous life was gone. She'd never see anyone she ever loved…ever again.

"Jesse…Jesse…Jared…"

Jared…


	6. Memories

"Rose! Hey, Rose! You gotta come see this, it's so cool!"

A small girl looked up from reading her book, noticing a boy close to her age and height. Her blond curls bounced against her cheeks.

"Jared, not now! I'm getting to a really good part!" 

Annoyed with Rose's attitude, the nine-year-old Jared ran up to her, his dark hair flying back as he ran. Without warning, he bent down and plucked something off of Rose's neck.

"Hey! Give it back! My mom gave that to me!"

"Come and get it!" With that, Jared sped off towards the forest behind her house.

"Wait!" Rose leapt up, tumbling after him.

"Come and see!"

…

"Jared! Where are you?"

The boy suddenly jumped out in front of her, causing her to scream slightly.

"Scaredy-cat!"

"Am not!"

"Are, too!"

"Am not!"

"Are-" The boy suddenly silenced, his tan skin turning to a vague shade of pale. His eyes, a shade of reddish purple, widened. Rose tried to speak, but he covered her mouth.

"We…I think we should get out of here!"

"What? But-"

"Get going!" Jared pushed her, causing her to stumble a bit. She simply kept running for some unknown instinctive reason. She checked to make sure her friend was behind her, only to hear a scream. Then, there was silence.

"Jared?"

She ran back to the clearing where he'd taken her, tripping over nearly every obstacle in the way. When she made it there, she looked everywhere. There were no footprints…not trace of her friend, nothing. Every remnant of the boy seemed to vanish off the face of the Earth.

"Jared?"

There was not response.

"Jared!"

The girl was now sobbing, shouting his name between breaths.

…

Rose woke up, remembering that day. Her friend was gone. Gone as if he never existed. When she returned to his house to tell his parents, everyone was horrified. Not even the police could find any remaining piece of him.

Why had she had that dream, anyway? Perhaps it was simply being in the forest…being nearby the place where he disappeared. She was soaked, and shivering. She opened her eyes, only to squint them shut immediately from the light of dawn pouring in her face. And she realized that she was being shaken.

"Hey! Wake up! You okay?" She turned her head to the direction of the voice. She opened her eyes more, noticing a pale…blue-haired boy?

She instinctively screamed, startled. Then, suddenly, as if there were some sort of force, the boy flew back a good five feet or so. She sprung up, shivering. She had never done…_that _before. However, the boy didn't seem disgusted, let alone afraid, at all.

"Woah! Cool! You're a witch, aren't you!" He crept closer, somehow fascinated.

Rose didn't respond. She just sprang up and jolted away.

"Hey! Wait!"

"Go away! Leave me alone!"

_Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap!_

She couldn't believe it! She exposed her…powers, if that's what one would call them. Now that he found out, he'd probably report her to Jesse. Then she'd have to face civilization again. She had to get away as fast as possible.

She simply ran in a random direction, the path vaguely feeling familiar to her, and that was when she skid to a hault…


	7. Assault

In the middle of a small clearing was a small tree, barely sticking out of the earth. However, its leaves were completely gone, and its branches were abnormally thick, and it was still a shrub. It simply grew there, in the middle of a rather rocky terrain, strangled by weeds. Rose strode over, fascinated. Its branches seemed to extend into five, jagged joints, reaching up barely past her knees. Odd, it almost looked like…

A hand. A broad yet skeletal hand that was the size of a trash can. Intrigued, she reached out to it, barely stroking its surface, only to scream.

The entire plant suddenly twitched, and its branches clasped around her entire arm. Its grip seemed tight enough to her it in half. She struggled, yet she could escape its clutch. Suddenly, an entire arm with a hand the same size exploded out of the ground, extending to at least seven feet. Its left arm suspended her into the air, while its right arm continued to hoist what seemed to be an entire body out of the earth. Then, within moments, a ten foot monster fully emerged from the ground, its bony clutch dropping her to the ground. Standing right in front of her, was a skeleton. However, rather than human like, it almost resembled some sort of mutant ape. Considering its Viking-like helm , boots, and tattered cape, it seemed to be barbaric as well.

It reached towards a twig extending from the ground nearby, only to turn out to be the hilt of an abnormally large and morbid axe. It let out a deafening roar, and swung a blow towards Rose. She screamed, rolling out of the way as the blade the size of her torso penetrated the ground. Had she not moved, she would've been split in two.

She leapt up and broke into an agonizing sprint, only to observe in every direction that more and more skeletons, though not as large or as armed as the one with the axe, broke out from the ground. Within seconds she was completely surrounded.

She was terrified beyond description. It was like being in a horror movie, knowing that she was going to die. What the undead wanted from her, she didn't know. Nonetheless, they all closed in on her, grinning malevolently.

It was at this moment, through her fear and confusion, that something strange happened. A strange feeling welled up inside of her. It was both an emotional and physical pain, and she suddenly felt like she was going to explode. She subconsciously reached her hand out, briefly closed her eyes, only for them to burst open again. This energy, whatever it was, seemed to explode out of her. Surrounding her was a sea of a strange blue substance-neither liquid nor gas, that seemed to burn in a cold and stinging way. The creatures howled as they were engulfed by it, and within moments turned to dust.

Everything became blurry for Rose. Every second was harder and harder to draw in full breaths. The last thing she saw was a figure running towards her in the distance amongst the remnants of the creatures. And then, there was only darkness.


	8. Brock and Laurel

Grrr... I hated how this came out earlier. Losing consciousness at the end of three chapters in a row is NO way to end a chapter. I just thought that if I did shorter chapters I'd stay more motivated to the story...which I have, actually .

Oh well, I'm gonna be a nice person and mention disclaimers and acknowledge reviews like a lot of other people do D

-Thanks for the Reviews, for the few people who did so.

-I own nothing, except for Rose and Jared, and Jack and Sally's children. Spindle, Gripe, Laurel, and Brock (C) Fonz and Laurel.

"I don't understand. How could something so powerful have been undetected?"

"Most likely her powers were dormant. It can happen, but I've never seen it happen and remain that way for thirteen years."

"How did you access her thoughts? She's unconscious."

"You underestimate me, Laurel. Even basic information can be found in subconsciousness. But her name and age are the only things I could ascertain. I'll question her when she's ready. She should be waking up momentarily."

Rose was barely awake, yet her eyes were still closed. She hadn't the slightest idea where she was, and had difficulty registering these words in her mind. Slowly, but painfully, she opened her eyes.

She lay upon a bed of some type, and something cold and soft was being pressed against her forehead. She was in a small room, with only a single window and door. In fact, the room was actually a hut or cottage of some type. A kettle hung over a hearth in a fireplace in the corner. Next to her stood the boy she had seen earlier, noticing that his hair was a closer shade to navy than actual blue. A man sat on the other side of the bed. His skin was almost as pale as hers, and long dark hair was tied back into a ponytail. His eyes had a reddish tint to them.

"Hello, Rosalyn." He said kindly, placing a sponge to her head once again. She winced. Apparently she got cut at come point.

"Who are you? Where am I? How do you know my-?"

"Relax. You're a bit fatigued right now. Don't talk, just listen."

Rosalyn opened her mouth once again, only for the man to cover it.

"My name is Brock, and this boy over here is Laurel." He gestured over to Laurel. "We've been living here for several years now, and up to now, we have never detected any aura of magical energy. Rosalyn, I want you to either nod or shake your head at this. Have things been happening to you lately? Things you fail to interpret? Things for which you feel ...separated or different than other people?"

Rosalyn paused for a moment, then nodded weakly.

Brock nodded. "It is completely understandable. It would happen to someone like you, though I've never seen it happen to someone at this age."

Rose's brow furrowed, completely clueless.

"To put it in a nutshell, Rosalyn, you are a witch." Rose was about to protest, but he simply put his hand to her mouth.

"When a witch or wizard first discovers their magic, it may function beyond their control. Normally it comes out right at birth, but yours…yours was contained within you for your entire life. That is why everything is happening all at once. What happened back there may have been a combination of accidental necromancy or spontaneous magical combustion. "

Rose stared at him oddly. Talk about dictionary abuse.

"Oh. Pardon me. I've forgotten you're not fully functional yet. I'm not going to give you too much information for you to transfer right now. The one thing I will tell you, however, is that you're currently suffering from an overexertion of magic. If I were you, I wouldn't count on moving about for a while. You're going to be very sore and tired, and that's hell to go through. The best thing that you can do in the meantime is to sleep it off. Speaking of which, you should drink your tea now. " He turned to the bubbling kettle over the hearth and snapped his fingers.

The kettle flew over to him, and as if it were summoned to do so, poured tea into a small cup.

"Wait a minute- how do I know I'm not dreaming? I can't be a witch, there's no such-"

"Thing?" Brock laughed, plucking the cup carefully out of thin air. "Don't worry. I'm not surprised. If I were you, I wouldn't believe anything happening to me, either. And you'll know that your not dreaming when you wake up again."

Before Rose would protest, Brock casually pinched her nose to open her mouth wider, and poured the tea into her throat. Within moments, everything began to blur again, and she lay on the bed, out cold.

Rose opened her eyes a few hours later, noticing that the entire room was dark, exceptionally for the brilliance of the full moon through the window. This seemed to give the place eerie yet welcoming luminescence. She leaned up a bit, feeling refreshed. She didn't see Brock, but Laurel was curled up on a soft spot on the floor in a corner. She decided that she'd gotten more than enough sleep, tiptoeing out of bed. Her bare feet were cold on the hard wood floor, and for some odd reason she lost balance, falling flat onto her face.

Laurel turned over on his side, his expression groggy and confused. He lifted his head up, noticing Rose and laughing slightly.

"See you're awake. Did you get a good rest?"

She nodded, slightly embarrassed. "Yeah...guess I wasn't dreaming." She sat cross-legged on the floor next to him. "Sorry for earlier, by the way."

"Huh? Oh, that was no biggy. You didn't mean to, seeing as you're new to all this."

"Guess I'm not dreaming. So, where's Brock?"

Laurel shrugged. "He goes out a lot. He should be back soon. It's almost three AM."

"Three?!"

"Hey, you needed that rest. Didn't think his tea would knock someone out for eighteen hours, though. He has this strange herb for it, but he never mentions where he gets it."

"How...how's he know my name? And what was he talking about earlier? Neko or nee-something?"

"Master Brock's a really powerful magician. He can read thoughts, but he can only do it fully when the person's conscious. And what he was talking about earlier is called necromancing. It's when a magical presence wakes up the bodies of the deceased. You might've done that by accident."

Rose's face fell when she realized she woke up someone from the grave...even though that thing did try to kill her.

"Hey, don't take it personally. Stuff like this happens all the time, at least what Master Brock says."

"Just wondering...why do you call him Master Brock? Are you his apprentice or something?"

Laurel shrugged. "Something like that. He's raised me here for as long as I can remember. He trained me in magic. So, what about you? Where'd you come from?"

Rose shuddered. "I'd rather not. What does it matter? I ran away, and I'm not going back."

"Really? Why's that?"

Rose sighed. "Well...I'm not sure I should tell you. If I did, would you turn me in?"

"What do you mean?" Laurel looked completely oblivious.

"You know, like report me to the cops or something?"

"Oh, uh...why, are you a criminal?"

"No...just a runaway. I ran away because I was afraid of being rejected for be being a...witch. "

"That...that's terrible." Suddenly, the two were interrupted when the door slammed open. They turned to Brock standing in the entryway, looking rather pleased with himself.

"Ah, morning Rosalyn. I see you're feeling better. Good news...I found a good place for your training."

"My...training?"

Brock nodded." Normally, I'd take you in, but since you are at a rather early stage in your biological magical developement, I think its best to take you to the best. It's in a place called Halloween Town."


	9. Suspision

Rose stared at Brock oddly. "Halloween Town?"

"Yep, that's it." Brock told her. I recommend we leave immediately. I need to see someone there anyways."

"You mean-…oh." Laurel was about to speak, yet was interrupted by some affirmative look from Brock. Suffice to say, Rose suspected they were hiding something. Nonetheless, it would probably be a matter of time before she found out….whatever it was. Laurel nodded, only to come back a few seconds later with three packs, one of which was Rosalyn's. He threw two of them to her and Brock, slinging one on his back. She hastily checked its contents- everything she packed- even her sketchbook. Apparently, Brock's and Laurel's were already packed, seeing as they were probably both expecting this. For some odd reason, she simply went along with them without question. It wasn't like she had anywhere else to go.

"By the way." Laurel said as they head out the door. "You're a really good artist."

"Thanks, I…Wait a minute! You went through my things?" Rosalyn glared at him, shocked. She simply hated her privacy violated, especially by someone still to her a complete stranger.

"N-no! Master Brock knocked it over, a-a-and it fell open, I swear!" Laurel lifted his hands out in front of him defensively, almost as if he thought she'd slap him.

"Oh." Was the only thing she said, not that convinced. Laurel went on his way, and they both somewhat kept their distances.

"Um…Master Brock," Rose was uncertain of what to call him, "are we almost there?"

"Just about." Brock continued up the path, a heavy pack on his back. Laurel followed closely behind him, with Rosalyn trailing last. She was never good at hiking, let alone aware that the forest near her home even had terrain meant for doing so. It had been two hours since they left the hut, and on several occasions they had to take a break because she kept stumbling over. Now, however, they actually seemed to be getting closer to their destination. Rosalyn tripped over a tangle of roots, struggling to get back up again.

"Hold up, Master Brock." Laurel sighed. "She fell again."

Brock didn't really show an irritated expression, though Laurel slightly rolled his eyes. "Well, hurry up, you two!"

After she recovered, they both continued up the path. When they got through to a small clearing, Rose stopped.

There were seven trees, each with some strange image carved upon them. A heart, a shamrock, an Easter egg…

"…they're all Christian Holidays."

Brock nodded. "The Holiday Worlds of old. Haven't you ever wondered where they came from, Rose?"

Rose paused, scratching her head. "No, not really."

Brock slightly smiled. "Well then, I believe it's time you've begun." Brock opened one large one shaped like a jack-o-lantern. Laurel immediately stepped through it. Rose, however, hesitated. For one strange moment, she felt almost as if they were being watched, looking around as if searching for something she didn't know. Slightly comforted yet frightened at finding nothing, she stepped into the darkness of the black and dead tree.


End file.
